The Cat And The Flea
by Regis
Summary: Flea was always a strange, angst-ridden young man... and then there was Magus. Before Crono and his marauding band stir things up, Flea muses on his relationship with his dark master.


The Cat And The Flea  
  
I reckon Magus is probably the best lay I've ever had.  
  
What, did that startle you? Just blurting it out like that? Well, boo-hoo. Get used to it. My mind works that way. Plus it's funny watching people's faces when I say things like that.  
  
Still, I suppose it's hardly surprising. Him being a good screw, I mean. 'Cause Magus is the single most beautiful person I've met in my entire life. And nothing, and I mean nothing, could spoil it with a face like that. He's just perfect, and I don't know why. It drives me crazy. He doesn't wear makeup but his face is - well, it's just naturally the right colour. Does he grow extra blood vessels in his cheeks to make them more red? Has he somehow managed to develop lipstick instead of saliva so he gets it every time he licks his lips? It's the most plausible explanation I've heard so far. He doesn't comb his hair, but there's never a strand out of place. Put Magus in a thunderstorm with gale force winds, and he'd come in just as perfect as when he went out. Except he'd be dripping wet and he'd need rubbing down - no. None of that now.  
  
And his clothes. He's only got one set of clothes, you know that? And he never changes them and he never washes them, but they aren't filthy and they don't smell. Well, they do smell, but not bad. They just smell of him. God, I love that smell. It's beautiful. It's better than perfume. It's better than anything. It's what darkness would smell like if you distilled it. Magus smells of black and purple. That is so weird. Evil, delicious, tingling evil, the sort of sin that damns your soul but makes everything else feel so good, that smells like Magus. And he is evil. No doubt about it. There's no room for goodness and kindness in Magus. He just doesn't care. That's kind of thrilling too, just the thought that he could kiss you or he could kill you, and he'd do either without even the slightest hint of guilt or conscience. I suppose that's what drew me to him in the first place. That and the summoning spell, of course. I mean, it's not often you just wander into deserted palaces in the middle of nowhere just drawn by force of personality, is it now?  
  
Hell, it was crazy. First time I met him, we didn't even speak. I walked into the great hall, not even knowing why I was there, and I saw Magus. He was standing in that magic circle that he moved to the basement later, and when he turned round and looked at me. I've always hated that, you know. Just the very fact that I fell in lust with him like that. 'Eyes across a crowded room', even an empty room, it's just shite. It's an affront, that's what it is. I do not do cliché. Mind you, the kiss was worth it. We didn't even speak. He just walked over and kissed me, and that was embarrassing too because I damn near collapsed. Me! I do not go weak at the knees, not for anyone. Not even Magus. I make other people go weak at the knees. Maybe he's got a magic tongue? That messes with your mind? It would explain a lot.  
  
And I'm grateful. I really am. I've got a nice room, lots of minions, a chance at world domination, and I get to be screwed by the most beautiful man alive on a pretty regular basis. I mean, I'm not complaining. Would you? But still. I do seem to be the odd one out here. The fourth corner of the triangle, if you will. 'Cause Ozzie makes the plans, Slash does the fighting, Magus does the magic, and what do I do? Well, obviously I do the magic now. But that's nothing special, I mean if I dropped dead one day it would just mean that Magus had to do it instead, and what's so special about that? Nobody makes plans like Ozzie, nobody fights like Slash, but what about me? I'm just expendable as far as talent goes. It's not a nice sensation, knowing that the only thing that would change if you died would be Magus would have to find someone else to have orgasms with.  
  
But there's even something odd about that. God, I sound picky now, don't I? But there is, just something subtly wrong. Not that there's anything unsatisfying in it, not at all. I mean, he's the best damn lay I've ever had, like I said. The technique's perfect. But that's the thing, he's just too perfect. He never loses control, never once. He never makes any noise either, unless he senses I want him to. He's very good about that. But there's never any sense of passion in it. I've always said that if you're gonna fuck, do it well. Put your back into it. Amongst other things. No. Bad boy. Save double entendres for Slash. But seriously, once we were doing it and I looked into his eyes, and I just thought, Oh my God, I'm making love to a dead man. 'Cause Magus. his eyes are just. well, I can't think of a word and I'm not using 'empty' because, like I said, I don't do cliché. It's kind of scary. I don't even think he enjoys it any more. I'm not certain if he ever did. It's just something he needs to do every so often, just to get it out of his system. It's a depressing thought.  
  
Still, I don't reckon it's so bad. I mean, if I hadn't come here I'd still be on the move. I'd never have met Magus. You know what? I actually reckon that I'd hesitate about killing Magus if I had to. Seriously. I mean, that's not normal. If someone's got to die, then they've got to die and it's no use moaning about it. But Magus, well, it's not just because he could wipe the floor with me ten times over. Certainly not. It's just. Hell, I don't know. I'd probably do it anyway. It's not like I'm in love or anything. Surprise you? Well, I'm not. And neither is he.  
  
So there. 


End file.
